


Graffiti My Love Onto Your Heart

by elephantpancakes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantpancakes/pseuds/elephantpancakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is just a quick thing inspired by <a href="http://1dspoon.tumblr.com/post/114446277422/zayncangetsome-x-to-this-day-i-cannot-deal-with">this</a> post. Hope you enjoyyyy!!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Graffiti My Love Onto Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick thing inspired by [this](http://1dspoon.tumblr.com/post/114446277422/zayncangetsome-x-to-this-day-i-cannot-deal-with) post. Hope you enjoyyyy!!

Zayn _hates_ people watching him while he works. Not when he’s on stage having the time of his life with his four best friends. No. He hates when people watch him when he’s in his element. When he’s zoned in on the shapes and curves and jagged lines that appear on the wall. When his hand and the spray can are melded together. He hates when people watch him then.

Except Liam.

It’s not that Zayn doesn’t like the other boys, they’re his _best friends_ for Christ’s sake, but he can’t deny he gets a little more than irritated when they come in while he’s working. They always hover and ask questions and he just doesn’t like the distraction. He loves them, but he wishes they would go about their own business.

But Liam. Zayn loves it when Liam is in the room. He doesn’t ask questions or offer unneeded commentary. He quietly goes about his workout routine doing pushups and jumping rope. He’s nothing but a warm presence; his soft grunts and heavy breathing act as Zayn’s own personal background music. It’s nice, even if Liam is a huge distraction.

There have been multiple occasions where Zayn almost spray painted Liam into his art. Hidden plump, red lips, a cocoa colored eye, defined abs. But he stops himself. He figures Liam deserves more than a distracted pre-show sketch that he’ll probably trash. No, Liam deserves weeks and weeks on his finest canvas and Zayn’s favorite watercolors. Time where Zayn can perfect the color of his eyes; that reddish brown that compliments his hair so well. Yeah, Liam is a massive distraction, but the good kind.

Today’s the worst. They’re filming him for the movie and its added pressure. He’s hyperaware of the cameras strategically placed around him and he’s tense and frustrated and this isn’t his best work (because he can’t work when people are _watching_ ) and millions of people around the world are going to see this. He wants to tear it down and burn it.

“I think he’s my favorite, the pink guy.” That’s another reason Zayn keeps Liam around; he always compliments his work, even if it is complete shit. And he never gives suggestions, like the others. He just admires Zayn’s work like he’s fucking Picasso or some shit. Zayn thinks he loves him for it.

“He’s turned out quite sick.” Zayn can feel his cheeks heat up and he has to crush his smile into his shoulder. Liam does that to him. Makes him giddy like a prepubescent teenager.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just turns to give Liam a blinding smile, eyes crinkled at the corners and all of his pearly whites showing the way he used to do for his mom after he brushed his teeth. And it’s genuine, his smile. He knows Liam doesn’t really know anything about art, let alone graffiti, but he says he likes the pink guy and Zayn tucks that away in his memory, that space reserved especially for Liam.

“I’m really impressed by this guy’s eye.” He’s closer now; he’s standing just a few feet away. Zayn’s heart flutters and he loves Liam even more. He loves how he always tries for Zayn, like he just wants to understand. The way he’s trying now. He keeps isolating small details and commenting on them and Zayn swears he could burst from the amount of love in his chest.

He sprays a few more lines and squiggles here and there and he steps back to survey his work. He can see Liam in his peripheral vision and he looks stunned, like he didn’t know this level of art was possible to obtain.

It’s not _bad_ , per se. But it’s most definitely not his best; it’ll do.

“I think you’d see him on a—on like a…” Zayn can practically see the gears working in Liam’s head: _stop, start, stop, start, stop, start_. He knows Liam doesn’t really have a frame of reference for what someone’s graffiti aspirations might be, if one might have any at all, but he’s _trying_ , always trying. “A graffiti wall somewhere in, like, New York or summat.” And Zayn giggles, fucking giggles, because Liam just— _Liam_. He smiles back, this proud smile like he’s just figured it all out. And Zayn _loves_ him. He wants to kiss him and he’s so frustrated because he’s completely forgotten about the cameras until now but they’re still there and that’s not something they do, kissing in front of people. It’s theirs and only theirs. Something so intimate that they hold it for themselves, no one else.

“Thanks for that, Zayn. Got some really good stuff, mate.” He smiles and it’s tight but he really just wants them to fuck off so he can cuddle into Liam’s side and forget the world for a while.

He stands behind Liam, hooking his chin over his shoulder and stretching his fingers over his sweaty abs, feeling the way they flex beneath his touch. He quirks his eyebrow at the cameramen and it’s like it clicks and they rush out of the room.

“Really does look sick, mate.” Liam’s voice is soft and encouraging, like he never wants Zayn to stop doodling or painting or any of it.

He moves one of his hands up to Liam’s heart, just to feel the way it beats steadily against his palm. It’s comforting.

“Yeah?” Zayn asks because he needs Liam’s approval even if he knows Liam means it.

“Yeah.” It’s barely a whisper and it makes Zayn’s chest swell with affection. He hides his grin in Liam’s naked shoulder, even though he doesn’t have to, his lips brushing over sweat-slick skin.

Something heavy is hanging in the air and this happens sometimes, where this, this _thing_ swirls thick and heavy around them and coats them like honey. They linger in this moment and nothing else exists. It’s just them. They sway to the rhythm of their hearts and this is perfect—them and Zayn thinks he may keep this piece of work after all, as a reminder of this moment.

He slides his hand across Liam’s stomach, his pinky brushing along the band of Liam’s shorts, hung low on his hips and he can feel him shiver, subconsciously pressing back into him. He smirks and latches his lips onto Liam’s neck, sucking to distract him from the shift of his hand from Liam’s hip to the small of his back, his other hand still teasing his navel. Liam’s head falls back onto his shoulder when he sucks just right and he takes the opportunity to dip his thumb into his shorts, brushing over his bum and Liam makes this _noise_ and wow Zayn is so, so _fucked_.

He knows he could make Liam come just like this, but Zayn is a tease and he likes Liam to squirm. So he sinks his teeth into Liam’s shoulder, just enough to make him let out a small hiss and slaps his bum with a little more force than needed and sprints out of the room, Liam hot on his heels, damning him to hell.

After all, they’re just boys, living their dream. They’re on top of the fucking world. And falling in love? Well, some of the best things in life are unexpected.


End file.
